


haunted

by LaraH_H



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt no Comfort?, Mentions of PTSD, References to Canon-Typical Violence, there's homoerotic subtext there you've just got to REALLY look for it.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26133325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaraH_H/pseuds/LaraH_H
Summary: The gaunt, haunted look of his face frightens the others. Makes them uncomfortable. Alexei, on the other hand, feels a kinship with the hollow look in his eyes.
Kudos: 5





	haunted

The King of Faerghus awaits him in the highest room in the ruined tower, a hulking mass of jagged black armor and matted hair huddled against the wall. Alone. Were he still a bleeding heart, Alexei might have pitied him. As it is, stepping over Empire soldier corpses, he’s more inclined to agree with Felix’s assessment of him. Wild boar. Not that he's much better, of course. Alexei can almost sense the presence of the ghosts that cling to his furs, whispering in his ears. He never asks whose voices they speak to him in. The gaunt, haunted look of his face frightens the others. Makes them uncomfortable. Alexei, on the other hand, feels a kinship with the hollow look in his eyes. He has a ghost of his own after all- he just doesn’t talk to her in front of company. Then again (according to _her_ at least) he’d carried them far longer than Alexei has. Will he too eventually be reduced to a mumbling shell of a person? Alexei finds it harder and harder to care. He doesn’t owe his sanity to anyone.

“Oi, Dimitri.” Alexei’s voice is rough, gravelly with disuse, but clear. Dimitri doesn’t even glance his way, single blue eye fixed to a crack in the stone floor. The scent of dried blood and something he hopes is just rancid sweat hit the back of his nose as he approaches, repugnant, and two years ago he might have gagged. Now, he barely registers it. War had a way of dulling some senses while heightening others. His reflexes, for instance. So when Dimitri suddenly lurches to his feet, clawed fingers reaching for his throat, he sidesteps him easily, grabbing the back of his cloak and yanking him back harshly. Dimitri grunts as he falls on his ass, but Alexei slaps him firmly across the face before he can lunge for him again.

“Dumbass. It’s me, Alexei.” Dimitri stops struggling. Alexei chances a glance over his shoulder and notes a fist-sized hole in the wall where his head had been moments earlier. Fucking fantastic. 

“Why are you here.” His voice scrapes painfully as he speaks, single eye looking at him accusingly. Anyone else would’ve had the good sense to piss himself under Dimitri’s half-murderous gaze and quickly vacate the area. Common sense was just another thing he’d lost to the Empire, it seemed. 

“Same reason I always am.” Alexei rolls his eyes, “I need you alive.”

“For now.” Dimitri chuckles humourlessly.

“For now.” Alexei affirms. He doesn’t feel bad about using Dimitri for his own ends. The King was little more than a shell of a person at this point, a vehicle for the phantoms that dogged him. He had no loyalty to the country of Faerghus, nor its King, nor its people. But now they shared a common goal- the head of the Emperor, on a spike. And that alone had been enough to secure his service.

Dimitri knows all this, of course. While he is at most times blinded by the phantoms in his eye, single-minded in his vengeance, he isn’t stupid. Alexei will never call him his King. He doesn’t expect Dimitri to suddenly banish his ghosts and become a wise and noble ruler like those delusional ex-Blue Lions. He doesn’t even expect Dimitri to like him. And in a way, that had only helped to foster a fragile bond between them. 

“Don’t make this difficult- it’s annoying enough to play nanny to a grown man already.” Alexei folds his arms across his chest and waits. Thankfully, Dimitri just huffs and slumps back against the wall.

“No one asked you to.”

“And yet here I am.”

“Then you are a fool.”

“Probably. Wouldn’t be the first time." He grins. It’s almost a nice moment until the deja vu of the conversation sours his mood, and the grin drops, “But then again, probably less so than your school buddies. At least I don’t try to wring bits of nobility and human decency from you where there’s none.” 

Dimitri’s eye slides shut.

“I know. Do what you will.” The defeat in his voice tugs at something in Alexei’s chest that he thought had long since died. He ruthlessly shoves it back down. 

“Good. Then shut up and sit still.” The words are lost on him- he’s already muttering quietly to himself again. With the sigh of a long-suffering man, Alexei produces a coarse piece of rag and pours some water from his waterskin over it. Dimitri seems to come to at the sound of water hitting stone and promptly groans.

“Don’t be such a child.” Dimitri doesn’t even dignify him with an answer, fixing him with an unimpressed glare instead. Alexei doesn’t feel the slightest bit intimidated. Whether that’s because his sense of self-preservation had been shot to shit or simply because he isn’t afraid of ghosts is anyone’s guess. Pushing the limp blond bangs off of his face, he feels around with his other hand to find the eyepatch’s tie. Dimitri simply sits there compliantly as he fumbles with the string, staring. Alexei pointedly avoids his gaze as he tugs at the knot. 

Alexei always wondered why Dimitri wore an eyepatch when both his eyes were perfectly functional, but questioning a madman was a pastime for fools and philosophers, or which was neither. It had reminded him of Javier, when he first started wearing it. Now he frowns at the comparison. Dimitri is a lumbering, violent figure focused only on bloodshed to appease his malevolent spirits. Javier had been a healer, a gentle giant, a pacifist of the purest kind complete with a saintlike patience and careful hands. But Goddess knew where he was now. He’d vanished during the Battle at Garreg Mach five years ago, and even if he had survived, there was no place for the soft-hearted in a war torn world. It hurt, to think of the people he’d once called friends. Though no one could touch _her_ in his mind, he’d cared for them once. Perhaps he still does. But Raoul and Alessia were with the Empire, Primrose, Naomi and Lucien departed for the Alliance, and he’d come to Faerghus alone.

“… Alexei?” Shit. He’d let himself get wrapped up in sentimentality while leaning over Dimitri, eyepatch dangling uselessly from his grip. He shook his head violently as though the memories would fall out and leave him be. 

“…It’s nothing.” He replies shortly, just a second too late to be convincing. Wrapping his hand around Dimitri’s jaw, half to hold him in place and half to prevent him from questioning further, he begins none-too-gently scrubbing at the grime on his skin. Even now, he still feels the weight of Dimitri’s eyes on him. 

“What’re you looking at.” 

“…You.” Alexei snorted, a harsh, half-amused sound. 

“No shit. If you like my face so much, commission a portrait. It’ll last longer.” Dimitri grumbles something intelligible and lapses back into silence. Despite himself, Alexei loosens his grip on his face, his movements with the abrasive material a touch less harsh. 

After a few minutes of nothing but the sound of their breathing filling the cold empty space, he pulls back. The roughness of his cleaning had brought back colour to Dimitri’s face, and for a second, he can almost fool himself into thinking he looks alive. But then the illusion is gone when he notes the stains on his cloak, the dirt caked in the edges of his armor, the exhaustion that hangs under dull eyes in dark half-moons. Tucking the now-filthy rag back into his pocket, he stands and turns to leave.

“Something occurred to me the other day, Alexei.” He almost jumps at the sound of Dimitri’s voice.

“You? Thinking? The wonders never cease.” He tries to cover his surprise with sarcasm.

“Washing me like this has nothing to do with keeping me alive.” Alexei stops dead in his tracks, turning to look back at him. Dimitri has an odd look in his eye as he regards him, as though seeing him for the first time.

“Are you implying something?” Dimitri merely shrugs his massive shoulders.

“Nothing in particular.” Alexei doesn’t know why, but he bristles at the words. 

“Don’t go thinking you’re important now! It’s embarrassing enough to fight under the banner of a King who reeks of piss and blood, at least keep your damn face presentable- It’s your only redeeming quality!” He jabs at the air for emphasis. To his disbelief, Dimitri cracks a wry smile.

“Perhaps it is you who has an interest in _my_ face, then.” Alexei splutters, torn between indignation and an absurd desire to laugh. Amusement lights Dimitri’s eyes, the curve of his uneven grin shaky but very much present, and he looks for all the world like a man the war has battered but not beaten the life out of yet. And to Alexei’s creeping horror, with dawn’s first rays slanting across his face, he finds himself thinking that Dimitri is beautiful. Just the act of thinking it feels like betrayal. He feels a hand at his shoulder, rubbing comforting circles into the skin, and he shivers. _Not now_. The sensation disappears. 

“As if.” Alexei spits, spinning on his heel and stalking out of the room. He doesn’t have to look to know Dimitri’s gaze follows him out.


End file.
